


Rage Quit

by Naja_Moonshadow



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angry Danno, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 13:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15931787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naja_Moonshadow/pseuds/Naja_Moonshadow
Summary: Steve can really push Danno's buttons. Sometimes Steve and his death-wish push them just a little too far...





	Rage Quit

     Danny was not given to moments of pure, unadulterated rage. He had a temper like anyone else, but violent outbursts and ‘seeing red’ had occurred only on a very rare, very few times in his life. He liked to think he was pretty even-tempered on the whole, if a little grouchy. He complained a lot—Steve never let him forget that habit—but actually feeling murderous didn’t happen often.

     He wasn’t sure if ‘murderous’ was how he was currently feeling, but it would have been nothing to put his fist through a wall. He was so angry his chest hurt, his temples throbbing a tempo in time with his pounding heartbeat. Kono had seen the look on his face when he left the office, her eyes widening as she slid neatly out of his way without comment. Danny figured he must look as pissed as he felt for Kono not to ask immediately ‘what’s wrong’. Or maybe she already knew. Even she had yelled at Steve a little for his afternoon’s death-defying stunt and Kono was even less prone to fury-yelling than Danny.

     The rage was why he was sitting in his Camero, several blocks from Steve’s house. He intended—hell _needed_ \-- to speak to Steve about their most recent job, but Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of actual human speech. Each time he opened his mouth all he could produce was loud animalistic noises. Rachel must have heard it in his tone when he called her—she’d not even asked why he needed to postpone picking up Grace until the following morning, merely meekly capitulated and told him she hoped he had a nice evening. Usually she argued, or demanded to know why he was putting off his precious time with his daughter. That was how _Danny_ knew how angry he really was—he didn’t give up Gracie-Time for _anything_.

 _This wasn’t just ‘anything’._ The thought was invasive and Danny slammed his fist against his steering wheel. It had already taken a series of hammering blows, the only outlet Danny currently had that couldn’t feel real pain. What he _wanted_ to do was punch Steve’s stupid, _stupid_ face. He wanted to hit him, because maybe _finally_ he could hammer some fucking _sense_ into that stupid goddamn man. Or maybe he could hammer that goddamn death wish out of him.

     Danny let out a gusting, hissing sigh and slammed his palms against his steering wheel one more time before snapping the key into the ignition and starting the engine. He couldn’t avoid this forever. He wasn’t going to get _less_ angry as the evening wore on. He was tired, which was making it worse. Maybe he could do some high-decibel swearing at Steve—who would undoubtedly look baffled and doe-eyed at him—and then go home for a hot shower. God knew he needed one. He’d taken a quick rinse at the office to rid himself of the copper-blood, dry-wall dust and sulfur smell from the job, but a long hot steam was needed for the tension in his back and shoulders. _Fuck_. What he _needed_ was a week away from goddamn Steve Fucking McGarrett and his ever-present adrenaline addiction.

     With another angry snort Danny threw the much abused Camero into gear and started up the street. The sun was just-set, pink and yellow still staining the tops of the houses as the last of the days light faded. It was setting quicker than normal, or maybe it only felt that way. As if the sun itself couldn’t way to escape this fucking godforsaken day.

     Steve’s house was lit up like Christmas, along with all the others on his block. Undoubtedly Steve was happily making his disgusting veggie dinner, probably _whistling_ to himself about how much fun he’d had panicking all of his friends. Danny’s chest tightened angrily again, a gut-spearing well of remembered terror making everything in his stomach feel watery for the hundredth time that day. Goddamn _Steve_ probably didn’t think a _thing_ of it! Steve probably masturbated to thoughts of his brushes with death.

     Danny jerked the Camero to a stop in the driveway behind Steve’s truck. He glared at the truck hotly for a moment before shutting off his engine, taking a few deep breaths that did nothing to alleviate the tightness in his chest or the rage that was making it difficult to think.

     It was with great effort that he left his Camero, abandoning the air-conditioning for the sauna-hot night air of Hawaii. His mood was already sour; the fact that his shirt immediately clung to him with humidity did nothing to assist this. Danny stood for a moment, contemplating just going home yet again. There was nothing he could really say to Steve that was going to make him feel any better and in all likelihood Steve didn’t even realize anything was wrong. In all a likelihood Steve was going to tease him a bit, placate him with warm words and beer and then they’d end up watching a movie like they always did when Danny was upset about something Steve had done.

     Danny didn’t want to be disarmed by Steve’s self-assured charm this evening. He didn’t want to watch a movie and drink beer. He _wanted_ to rage. He wanted to yell and beat things up. He needed a bad-guy to hammer away at so that he could feel as if he could _do_ something about any of it. He needed to shout and scream and make Steve _listen_ just once.

     He started up the walk to the door before he could talk himself out of it. It wasn’t going to do any good—but ultimately he had to try. He had to vent, even if it amounted to nothing. He grit his teeth and knocked at the door, making sure to really bang his fist solidly on it for emphasis.

     “Danny?” Steve answered the door with a confused expression of welcome, glancing behind him and at elbow-height automatically, checking for Grace. “Don’t you have Grace tonight?”

     “Not tonight.” Danny shoved past Steve without waiting for an invitation. The house smelled like stir-fry and Danny was not at all surprised.

     “Everything ok?” Steve followed him into the kitchen, going to the fridge to get him a beer which Danny stared at angrily, feeling his guts starting to boil. He was going to snap in half if Steve asked what movie he wanted to watch.

     “No Steven, everything is _not_ ok.” Danny set the beer, unopened, on the counter and watched Steve heft a plate of his sautéed rabbit-food, taking big bites with every appearance of relish while leaning back again his counter. There was a bandage on his right shoulder, the edge of it riding just below the sleeve of his blue tee-shirt. The man had done something _really_ stupid and had gotten off with some _scrapes_. Danny’s hands tightened into fists and he thought it might _really_ have been a mistake to come here.

     “It’s not Gracie is it?” Steve lowered his fork, face twisting immediately into concern at Danny’s continued silence and Danny breathed in sharply, hating that he was how pleased he felt at Steve’s concern over Grace. “She’s ok?”

     “She’s fine. Grace is _fine_ and do you know why Steven? Because she has _sense_.” Danny snapped, pacing the length of the kitchen while Steve’s face relaxed back from worry. A faint smile quirked the corner of his flexible mouth and Danny immediately had the urge to hurt someone. “Don’t fucking _smile_ like that. _Don’t. Even.”_

     “This is about that job, isn’t it?” Steve shoved another mouthful of green things into his mouth and chewed, already looking smug. Danny felt his blood-pressure rise incrementally for each second Steve wore that expression. “We got ‘em, everything turned out ok.”

     “Yeah, the bad-guys got caught, we got our bust, nobody died.” Danny acknowledged through a clenched jaw. It was all true. Steve’s mouth twitched again and Danny’s hand snapped out immediately to grip the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles went white. “But _you_ Steven, you charged a man pointing a goddamn _bazooka_ at you. A _bazooka_ Steven. The kind that _blows things up_.”

     “It was a—“

     “ _Don’t_.” Danny cut him off and Steve’s smile relaxed, tilting down a little in a slight frown. “Don’t _even_ correct me on what kind of _deadly_ explosive weapon it was Steven.” Steve sighed, sounding irritated as he pushed off the counter, dumping the rest of his dinner into the compost and setting the plate in the sink. Danny watched his back as he moved, muscle flexing under his shirt; he was favoring his right arm. He hoped that shoulder hurt like hell. Steve turned back to him, picking up Danny’s discarded beer and opening it, offering it between them like a proverbial olive branch.

     “I knew how much time I had before he get his shot off. It was fine Danny, _I’m_ fine.”

     “You couldn’t know for sure. You fucking _ran out_ at a guy pointing a fucking bazooka at you and you didn’t even hesitate. Aren’t you army guys supposed to be _smart_? Less than one second later and you’d have been in little-bitty bits, me scraping you off the goddamn _ceiling_ . I know you have a death wish Steven, but fucking _seriously?_ ”

     “SEALs. I’m a _SEAL_ Daniel.” Steve withdrew the beer bottle and set in the counter with a thump. “And _nothing_ happened. He missed by six miles.” That smug smile was back and Danny hissed audibly through his teeth. “Besides—I trust you to make my funeral real pretty, say something touching…” The smile stretched across his face, eyes bright and head tilted to make sure Danny knew it was a joke. He was going to ask what movie Danny wanted to watch. “But hey, _Mom_ , now that you’re here I picked up the third _Jaws_ —“

     Danny snapped. It was like a rubber-band, pulled too hard. Every muscle tensed, going painfully tight and then releasing in a motion so quick even Steve didn’t have time to react. Danny launched himself across the kitchen, catching Steve’s shirt in both fists. Danny wasn’t tall, but he packed a lot of momentum when he wanted to and Steve let out a startled yelp as he was slammed physically back against the counter.

     “DANNY!” Steve shouted, breathless and angry all at once, hands coming up to pry his friend off. Danny was having none of it, he _lifted_ , pushing Steve up onto his toes and then _shook_ him, like a dog with a stuffed toy. He couldn’t hold him there, but it hardly mattered because the second Steve’s feet were firmly back on the floor he shook him again, slamming him hard against the counter and keeping him there.

     Danny knew that technically Steve could probably have killed him in three seconds. Steve wasn’t in a killing mood though—he was staring down at Danny with a shell-shocked expression, a proverbial deer-in-headlights in the face of Danny’s unleashed rage.

     “You _stupid_ fucking man!” Danny roared, giving him another shake for good measure. He was breathing in great gasps, trembling all over with the desire to do actual physical harm to someone. He was so angry he couldn’t think, couldn’t _focus_. Steve had hold of his wrists but did nothing to stop him, too stunned by the display to fight back or protest. “ _GODDAMNIT_ STEVEN!” Danny roared again and released the grip he had on Steve’s rumpled shirt. There were so many things he wanted to say, things he’d practiced in the Camero so he could vocalize them above the angry cursing but nothing would come out. He jerked his wrists free of Steve’s grip and shoved him, though there was nowhere for Steve to go now that Danny had crowded him against the counter. They stared at one another, inches apart that at once seemed like miles and yet no space at all.

     There are very few moments in life where nobody needs to talk, where thought and action are mutually agreed upon with barely a look, where individuals are of one mind so completely that nothing else is needed. Those moments are rare and extremely precious.

 _This_ was one of those moments. Danny lurched forward again and grabbed Steve’s shirt, one hand fisting tight in the much-abused cotton and the other wrapping around the back of Steve’s neck. Steve didn’t need any coaxing, in seconds Danny had managed to slam his mouth against Steve’s with all the finesse and force of a wrecking ball hitting a building.

     It didn’t seem to matter—Steve made a sound like a punctured balloon and Danny found himself with an armload of McGarrett. It was an expectedly hefty armload considering that Steve was a good foot taller than Danny on his worst day. Danny didn’t care—he gripped Steve so hard he knew there would be bruises. Steve’s hands had wrapped around the back of Danny’s neck, clinging just as hard.

     Calling it a kiss would be mildly inaccurate. This was a collision. Danny had kissed a few people in his life, he considered himself experienced and while he’d never kissed a guy before he was pretty sure this was different. His rage evaporated in an instant, leaving him light-headed and light-bodied. All that really felt solid was Steve’s mouth warring with his, and the unbelievable sensation of Steve’s tongue in his mouth.

     Steve made a noise, low and soft and Danny growled back, pulling away to suck air into his lungs which only intensified the light-headed feeling. They stared at one another again, Steve’s eyes so close to his he could see the pin-pricks of gold around the sliver of green, which was all that was left of his iris, blown wide into a black abyss.

     They didn’t need to say anything. Steve grabbed at Danny’s hand and hauled, Danny stumbling after him as they went immediately upstairs. The bedroom; for an instant Danny thought he should panic at the sight of that wide, perfectly made bed (because why _wouldn’t_ Steve’s bed have razor-edge corners?)but the panic didn’t come. Instead he hauled his shirt over his head, pulling off his shoes without a single thought other than the fact that Steve’s pants were already off. He knew the man was a fast undresser—having witnessed Steve’s patent exhibitionism many times over the years—but he couldn’t honestly _say_ where the man’s clothes had gone.

     Ultimately it didn’t matter. Steve’s hand grabbed at him before he managed to get his pants all the way off, callused palms gliding up his sides and Danny’s heart did something both painful and pleasing behind his ribs. There was relief in the touch, desperation, as if Steve couldn’t believe his luck at having him _really_ here. Danny abandoned his pants, grabbing at Steve’s hips and hauling him close. This kiss was just as bruising as the first, Danny groaning painfully at the warmth of Steve’s taller body leaning over him, the searing heat of his tongue chasing Danny’s. It was breathless and painful and _perfect_.

     The bed rose up to meet them. Or at least that’s how it felt. Somewhere along the way Danny’s boxers vanished and he landed on blankets with Steve under him. There was so _much_ warm skin, Steve smelled like body-wash and coconut and Danny licked a track up his neck to taste him. Steve _moaned_ which was an unexpected delight and Danny nipped his collar bone, elated when he did it again. It was a heavy sound, made heavier by the intense and surprising feeling of Steve’s arousal pressing into his stomach, thick and warm and _waiting_. Danny grinned into Steve’s neck, biting down unexpectedly so that Steve yelped, fingers digging into Danny’s sides. A muscled thigh slid up between Danny’s and Steve bucked impatiently, making them _both_ groan.

     Danny knew this couldn’t last. He was too shaky from the adrenaline of the afternoon, the wake of his rage producing an almost painful desire to claw his way _inside_ Steve and he sat back onto his knees. Steve was so _beautiful_ lying there, skin dewed with sweat and eyes heavy. He was breathing hard, chest heaving and Danny thought he might never breathe again at just how much he loved this stupid, _stupid_ man.

     He pushed Steve’s thigh from between his legs and Steve let him, spreading wide and expectant as Danny settled back down atop him. With a little wriggle their cocks brushed and Danny’s eyes snapped closed instantly as Steve let out a stuttered groan.

     Danny had never had sex with a guy before but the basic logistics were pretty self explanatory. He spit in his palm and reached between them, bracing himself on his knees and one hand. He wasn’t as tall as Steve, but his hands were plenty big enough for this. Steve made a high noise, bucking sharply as Danny’s hand closed around their cocks, pressing them together in his slickened fist. Danny grunted, his guts coiling sharply as he opened his eyes. Steve’s cheeks were flushed, eyes bright behind half-lowered lids, lips slick and swollen with their kissing. He was goddamn radiant.

     Not cumming _immediately_ was a challenge, made worse when Steve’s hand slid between them, joining Danny’s and then he _moved_. Steve moaned loudly and without inhibition, hips rolling so that his cock slid stickly between their clasped fingers, running along Danny’s in a frankly obscene way. Danny growled again, shuddering as heat waved up his spine, clenching behind his balls as his hips followed suit, jerking forward to follow Steve’s path.

     It was messy, raw and absolutely wonderful. Danny tried to go slowly, pulsing thrusts dragging him closer and closer to that coiled orgasm in his guts but Steve didn’t do _anything_ slowly. He whined, his other hand clinging to Danny’s arm, legs trembling as Danny’s thighs forced his wider with their fucking. He whimpered, moaned and grunted, driving Danny’s control to its limits. He hadn’t taken Steve for being loud in bed, but Steve was _loud_ and Danny loved the hell out of it.

     Steve’s back was arching, head pressing back into the pillows and Danny could see the tension in him, knew what it meant and couldn’t fucking _wait_ —he thrust faster, driving his cock between their fists, the friction maddening but delicious as Steve’s orgasm came barreling down at them.

     Steve _yelled_. His back arched, fingers bruising on Danny’s arm as he fucked up against Danny’s cock in two hard strokes before he was _cumming_. Steve was stunning in pretty much everything he did, but he was _glorious_ in orgasm. He shuddered, writhing and shouting, a hard flush travelling up his chest in a reddened wave and _then_ —Danny groaned, falling over the edge himself.

     It had been rushed—not Danny’s favorite way to have sex—but his orgasm still slammed him like a train anyway. He bowed forward, pressing his forehead into Steve’s collar bone as pleasure boiled through him, his cock twitching angrily as he spurted. It felt as if all the fear he’d felt all day poured itself out of him, spilling over their combined fingers, over Steve’s still twitching cock and onto Steve’s tense stomach. Everything seemed to snap apart, cracking like winter ice as Danny came, Steve’s cries chasing him along his high until he _finally_ grunted and relaxed.

     He slid sideways, landing gently on his side next to Steve with Steve’s leg trapped under him. Steve rolled to follow him, his dirtied hand landing on Danny’s side but Danny couldn’t care about the mess. Danny lay trembling and listening to Steve’s breathing slowly start to even out, Steve’s own shaking slowly subsiding.

     It was some time before Danny was capable of thinking again. He was exhausted. It was late. He’d had a _really_ shitty day. His eyes opened and he stared at Steve’s adam’s apple. He and Steve had just had sex. Raucous sex. _Unplanned_ , raucous sex. Danny heaved a great sigh and hauled himself up onto his elbow to look down at Steve’s face.

     “Steven…” Danny began, voice roughened with fatigue and sex. Steve’s face instantly snapped from post-coital haze to intense stone-carved-focus, eyes lasered on Danny’s face with near physical weight. Danny thought that it was the first time he’d ever seen Steve look actually _scared_. “If you _ever_ charge a guy holding a bazooka again, I will _personally_ break both your goddamn legs. Ok, babe?” The fear slowly drained away from Steve’s face, melting back into something… softer. Danny had never seen Steve look frightened, and he’d also never see him look so…warm. _Loving_. “I swear on Gracie’s head I’ll do it.” Steve’s expression didn’t change and Danny didn’t smile. He meant it. He really did.

     Danny started to relax back onto his side, but Steve lifted one shaking hand and Danny paused, waiting as it gently landed on his cheek. It was tentative, as if Steve wasn’t sure how to even touch him, but after a moment his callused palm smoothed down Danny’s scruff and onto his neck.

     “Hey…I’m sorry I scared you.” Steve said softly and Danny felt a shock of surprise at the genuineness in his tone and expression. They looked at one another for a moment, caught in a bubble of time that seemed to stretch infinitely in every direction. Danny finally, _finally_ smiled, released at last from the remains of the terror-soaked rage he’d been trapped in since that afternoon.

     “You _fucking idiot_. You go and die what the hell am I gonna do, huh?” He demanded, meaning it. Steve smiled, slowly and gently and without a single shred of his trademark smug self-assurance. It was a genuine smile, not steeped in bravado or hidden behind his carefully crafted walls. It was utterly—heartbreakingly—vulnerable. Danny felt his own mouth stretch slightly in response, his heart doing a funny little tattoo that was as embarrassing as it was inevitable. Steve had always done funny things to his cardio-vascular system and Danny suspected it was only going to get worse as the years wore on.

     With a huff of amusement Danny climbed out of bed, grumbling to himself as he tried not to smear cum on Steve’s sheets—cursing when he inevitably failed—and disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes. When he returned Steven was sitting at the bed’s edge, staring at the drying semen on his stomach with a vague expression. Danny handed him a wet towel and pulled his boxers on while Steve wiped it away.

     “I’m calling for pizza.” Danny announced, making to head back downstairs. “I _starvin’_ an’ all you got is rabbit food…”

     “Danny…” Steve’s voice was odd and Danny turned, one hand on the doorframe. Steve had pulled his own boxers on and was standing a few feet from the bed. He looked… _hunched_ almost, tentative, though he was standing as straight as normal, hands on his hips. Danny frowned, tilting his head. “We’re… _ok_ right?”

     “Ok?” Danny echoed, watching the wary expression on Steve’s face. He thought if he listened he might hear the cogs whirring away in Steve’s head, grinding through the last few hours trying to find digestible bits. He knew why of course and _yes_ —they would, eventually, need to talk about _this_. Danny didn’t really know how at the moment. How could he _explain_ that none of this…worried him? That he’d just crossed several _major_ lines in quick succession--both professionally _and_ personally—and he felt… _comfortable_. Happy. Content. Utterly without a single fuck to give about the _reams_ of violations this probably entailed. How could he explain that to him _this_ had been happening for years, that _this_ had been happening since the first time he’d realized his heart did funny things around Steve—which, if he was honest, was probably about two weeks after meeting the man? That _this_ had been _this_ so long that having sex had felt…had felt like coming home after _years_ away. It was _right_ , whatever the hell else it was.

     He was going to have to _say_ all of this eventually. He figured he should probably take his time getting it all straight in his head first. Talking to McGarrett about emotional things was akin to trying to explain neuroscience to a goldfish…he’d have to pick the right time, the right mood. For now… Danny smiled, crossed the room and hauled Steve’s mouth down to his again. _Seriously,_ the man was goddamn _tall_. Tall enough Danny had to shame-facedly stand up on his toes a bit to properly reach without bending Steve in half. Steve’s hands gripped his sides again, holding him still and pressing near physical waves of relief through into him. Danny pulled back and looked up at Steve.

     “We’re ok babe.” He said honestly, knowing that—for now—this was enough. Steve’s grin came back, cocky and smug all at once though Danny knew better than to believe it. Steve was intensely relieved and so was Danny.

     “Pizza?”

   “And Jaws 3.” Danny replied, leading the way.


End file.
